by Kal Aaron
“What good is the equilibrium of the Society to people like me?” Lyssa mumbled. She hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until she noticed the angry look from Samuel.
“Without the Society,” he replied, enunciating each word, “the Shadows would sweep over the Illuminated like a tsunami. They’d scour us from the Earth. They’d find a way to get to Last Remnant and destroy it with their nuclear and chemical bombs.” He sniffed in disdain. “Is this latest fit of pique about your brother?” He frowned. “Ah, yes, the anniversary of his death. And let’s be clear about that. Just because his regalia—”
“I know,” Lyssa snapped. “Somebody already shoved that in my face recently.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “And I know she was trying to help me when she said it. But that doesn’t matter, I’m not here to talk about him, and I honestly don’t care much about politics. I’ve got a contract to track down the source of the shards and clean up the mess. I’ll do that, and I’ll leave the rest to you. If there’s a rogue at the end of this, I’m not going to call you to ask for permission. I’ll clean that up the second I find it, whether or not it’s politically convenient.”
The mention of her brother rekindled a pathetic hope that this incident was targeted at her and related to him somehow, but the rational part of her had given up on that. Finding and taking down the smugglers would help her get past the emotions piling up from the anniversary.
A subtle look of discomfort flickered across Samuel’s face. “I might have misspoken when I suggested the possibility of a rogue. You were right before. Many shards have slipped through the Society’s fingers throughout the millennia. The Shadows now fully appreciate their value and know better how to use them.”
Lyssa gave him a skeptical look. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
“Do you honestly believe that?” she asked.
“I choose to believe until presented with less annoying evidence, but I encourage you to be prepared for all possibilities.”
“Understood.” Lyssa grabbed her gun and waved it. “I should probably spend less time talking to you and more time investigating.”
Samuel’s form blurred into the boring disguise from before. “Keep me apprised of your progress.”
Lyssa offered a mocking salute. “Don’t worry, Great Elder. I’ll get this mess cleaned up.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pulling into a gas station in east Scottsdale, Lyssa yawned, already mentally exhausted even though it wasn’t noon yet. A man filling his black Silverado watched her out of the corner of his eye. The Ducati drew plenty of attention in its normal form.
Everyone liked a sexy bike. Getting attention as Lyssa rather than Hecate wasn’t unwelcome, but she’d bought the Ducati for her and her love of the road, not to get a man.
Sometimes when she stopped at a gas station, she wanted to laugh. For all her clever rituals and help from a spirit, in the end, she couldn’t avoid having to pump 93-octane into her motorcycle.
The Silverado owner, a broad-shouldered man with a cute boy-next-door look, continued to do his best to pretend he wasn’t looking at her while watching her every move. What would he think if he knew the great Hecate the Night Goddess needed to hit a Shell now and again?
Five years after M-Day, the average Shadow still didn’t understand sorcery. The Society encouraged that. A lack of information wasn’t misinformation, the Elders claimed.
Lyssa furrowed her brow. She didn’t agree. Stratagems and politics should come after the truth, not before, but she’d follow the fossils’ rules until they convinced her it would make things worse, not better.
There wasn’t much she could do as an individual. The future didn’t care about individuals, even Illuminated. Power wasn’t the same thing as omnipotence, even though the Tribunal camping out on Last Remnant liked to pretend otherwise.
Her nozzle clicked, and the gas flow stopped. She replaced the nozzle on the pump.
“That man is paying excess attention to you,” Jofi said.
“I know,” she whispered. “He’s just hoping for a hookup. Don’t worry about it.”
Lyssa grabbed her receipt from the pump and tucked it into a pocket. Checking on a suspicious warehouse that might be related to organized crime in broad daylight was dumb even for a Sorceress, but she didn’t want to spend all day sitting on her ass in a diner in Midland, making up excuses for why she was nursing her coffee.
That was one problem with having a motorcycle. It made stakeouts more difficult. Wraith form and other types of darkness sorcery cloaking took energy to maintain, and that wasn’t infinite. Draining herself before a potential big fight was idiotic.
Lyssa frowned. She’d need a better plan. Waiting until night, then making her move made more sense. It also gave her regalia and herbs more time to heal her. Just because she wasn’t in pain anymore, it didn’t mean she was healed. She’d rushed out of her place because of Samuel’s visit, but it wouldn’t hurt to go back.
Her hand jerked into her coat when Silverado Boy-Next-Door started toward her. Torch reflexes could be annoying. He slowed, offering her a smile.
“Hey.” He kept his hands in his pockets.
Lyssa dropped her hand away from her hidden gun. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“Not exactly.” The man inclined his head toward her Ducati. “Nice bike. I’m more of a truck guy, but it’s hard to ignore a hot girl on a hot bike.”
She grinned. “I like to be close to the road, feel that wind around me. It’s hard to do that in a truck.”
“I get that. In another life, I’d be a Harley dude, but it’s hard to haul things with a bike.” Boy-Next-Door’s gaze flicked to the side.
Lyssa tensed and almost reached for her gun again. She told herself it was because of the ambush at Serafina’s place. It was close to the truth, but she hated to think she was always that paranoid.
Two other guys around the man’s age emerged from the gas station, holding plastic bags filled with snacks and sodas. They stepped away from the door and stopped, watching their friend with eager attention, stupid grins all over their faces.
“Are you sure this man isn’t an enemy?” Jofi asked.
Lyssa let a laugh escape before she could stop herself. Boy-Next-Door looked confused, then insulted. She felt bad for the guy, but she couldn’t risk explaining the situation to Jofi. Spirits could always make an awkward situation worse.
On some other day, when she wasn’t getting ready to gun down gangsters wielding powerful sorcery-based artifacts, she might have been willing to give Boy-Next-Door a try, at least a single date. He wasn’t her type, and her life was more complicated than most, but Tricia was right. Lyssa needed to try to live life.
Juggling the many balls of her day-to-day life would continue until she died or quit. Given her lifestyle, it might not even be when she expected it. Finding some temporary fun and floating along with the river of normal existence on occasion didn’t seem so terrible.
“So,” Boy-Next-Door began, “I’m Bill.”
“Lyssa.” She smiled. “I hate to do this, but let me save us both some time. You’re cute and all, Bill, but I’m not looking at this exact moment, and I’m kind of on the way to something. I know that sounds like a line, but if you’d met me some other time, things might have been different.”
Bill’s mouth twitched, but he kept his smile. “That’s cool. Thanks for your honesty.” He waved and headed toward his truck. “See you around, Lyssa.”
“See you around, Bill.”
Lyssa headed toward the building. She’d stabbed the man in the heart, but he’d live. His friends hurried past her, one smirking, the other looking pained. She’d reached the door when they arrived at his truck.
“Yo, Bill, what the hell, bro!” the smirking man said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Did you think you were gonna get a hot biker chick to go out with you? And look at that bike. It’s crazy-expensive. O
ut of your league, bro. Out of your league. That was like a high school running back getting smashed by an NFL linebacker. It was painful to watch.”
Lyssa grimaced and entered the building. Bill was all right. She wouldn’t say she was out of his league. She wasn’t even sure what her league was.
The obvious choice would be to limit her dating pool to men who knew her identity and weren’t freaked out by a woman who routinely dressed like a scary force of nature and gunned down dangerous criminals and terrorists. That was a damned small pool. She sighed as she made her way to the cold section.
“Do you desire companionship?” Jofi asked.
“I’ve got you,” Lyssa whispered.
“Human companionship.”
Lyssa found the ice cream section. Her eyes darted back and forth as she surveyed the available brands and flavors. Not enough strawberry varieties.
“I don’t know what I want,” she murmured. “If Samuel keeps me this busy, it won’t matter for a while.”
“You could combine your desires,” Jofi said.
None of the pints was calling to her. That was rare. She shifted a couple of yards to grab a water bottle.
“Combine my desires?” Lyssa snickered. “That sounds kinky.”
“It would be useful to seek companionship from someone you’re in close contact with,” Jofi said, conveniently ignoring her joke.
“Someone I’m close to?” Lyssa pulled a water bottle from the shelf. “I already thought of that. I don’t have a lot of choices.”
She lingered near the drinks, wanting to finish her conversation with Jofi before going to pay. Sticking in an earbud was a nice cover in some situations, but she hadn’t brought one and often didn’t bother. It didn’t help when they needed to discuss Society matters.
Damien’s face flashed into her mind. He could be frustrating, but he was handsome and intelligent. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know him on a more personal level. Unless she was crazy, there was something there.
Sparks? Maybe. Enough to start a fire? Maybe that, too.
“I’ve been thinking about your situation,” Jofi said.
“You’re worse than a middle-aged mother pressing her daughter to start popping out grandchildren.”
“I assure you, it’s hardly the same situation,” Jofi said. “I have no investment in your potential offspring.”
“Fine.” Lyssa chuckled. “What do you want to tell me?”
“My strategy would allow you to better ingratiate yourself with the Shadow authorities. I’m not saying you need to maintain a relationship beyond the point of physical and emotional satisfaction, but it could aid your work.”
“Wait, what?” Lyssa strained to keep her voice quiet. “You’re saying I should seduce someone for the job?”
She should have known better than to take advice from a spirit residing in two guns, who had been stripped of his true nature—not that she wanted to hear what the original grand emptiness spirit had to say about her love life. For now, she’d wait for him to spit out the answer she already knew, Damien, but she wasn’t fond of Jofi suggesting him.
“I’m stating that there can be a convergence of opportunities,” Jofi continued. “It’s the most logical choice.”
Normally, Lyssa didn’t mind his calm and measured tone. It provided a nice anchor in her chaotic life. This was one time, though, when she would have preferred the spirit inject a little emotion into his voice.
“I’m not dating someone for the job.” Lyssa frowned. “That’s not how I work.”
That wouldn’t do. It couldn’t be so simple. As she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure if Damien was allowed to date a Sorceress, let alone one he was monitoring. It wasn’t something she’d thought to check, but the feds were all about avoiding conflicts of interest.
Having Jofi push her made her want to find out. It couldn’t hurt to ask. Eventually.
“I think convincing Lieutenant Lopez of your worth as a woman would go a long way toward solidifying your relationship with the largest local police force,” Jofi said. “If the Phoenix PD backs you, the others will.”
“Huh?” Lyssa stood there with her mouth open, processing what she’d heard. “You think I should date Lieutenant Lopez? The guy who went on and on about how he didn’t like me?”
“Yes,” Jofi replied. “I’m not a good judge of human appearance, but he seems to match the general parameters of what you’d find acceptable. Taking advantage of that should reduce his antipathy toward you. I’m confused. Who did you think I was talking about?”
“This isn’t fifth grade, where I’m supposed to pretend the boy who sticks gum in my hair likes me. I can’t believe this.” Lyssa burst out laughing, earning a curious look from the attendant at the counter. She shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re not a love spirit. Forget it. Let’s go back home and bleed off some daylight before heading to Texas.”
Chapter Twenty
An owl hooted in the distance. Lyssa enjoyed the avian commentary as she lay on her stomach atop a four-story building a couple of blocks from the suspects’ warehouse. She’d found a comfortably deep shadow and wrapped herself in wraith form. The moon was barely visible through the clouds, making the night darker than it otherwise would have been.
She’d eaten a good chicken fried steak meal and downed a strawberry shake at a diner on the edge of town earlier, lying about how she was passing through on her way to Washington, DC. It’d been a while since she’d last been in Texas, and she’d enjoyed the casual friendliness of the small family-owned place.
A cool, refreshing breeze passed over her. It was perfect weather for a stakeout. She didn’t need sorcery to keep herself comfortable. The light chirp and click of cicadas filled the air, joining the occasional owl noises—surprising at this time of year. Even though she was in town to investigate smuggling, everything about the evening relaxed her until a stray thought popped up.
Lyssa snickered. “How messed up is it that I’m calmest on top of a random roof? Oh, well. I might as well enjoy it until I have to shoot someone or threaten to eat their soul.”
“You haven’t had much chance to relax since the move,” Jofi replied. “As you pointed out.”
“Stakeouts are relaxing?”
“The lack of activity does provide a meditative atmosphere.”
Lyssa laughed. “I’ll start doing videos about the new meditation craze, Be Zen Like a Narc.”
She peered through her compact binoculars at the warehouse, focusing on the loading entrance in the back. There weren’t a lot of streetlights near the building, and none of the surrounding buildings had any lights on.
That was perfect. She’d been able to get close to the building without trouble. She had been watching for a little over an hour and hadn’t seen anything to worry her, though she also hadn’t seen anything that made her think they had shards in there. At this distance, she wouldn’t be able to feel the sorcery.
The Lone Five Stars might have gotten their hands on some shards, but that didn’t make them Sorcerers. She could draw on her powers with little risk of alerting them. Avoiding a fight might not be possible, but she wanted to delay one until she confirmed they had the contraband.
Lyssa didn’t mind gangs being afraid of her, but she also didn’t want them believing she was going out of her way to hunt them. It would complicate things in the future.
“This isn’t sad, is it?” Lyssa asked. “Not relaxing. Not Zen.”
“What do you mean?” Jofi asked.
“I’m spending my night on a Midland rooftop, spying on gangsters instead of going out with guys in Silverados.”
“It’s necessary for the job. Would you feel better if you were on a rooftop in a different city? Or with Bill? He is the only Silverado owner of note you’ve encountered recently.”
“He wouldn’t enjoy this.” Lyssa snickered. “I don’t know if I feel bad. I’ve been thinking, but no, now that I think of it, it’s not the city. I think it’s more the
roof. I do like the animal noises. I liked them in San Diego, too. I’m not sold on what I can hear in Scottsdale.”
“The roof is necessary,” Jofi said. “An elevated position makes for better reconnaissance. An excess of animal sounds would only raise the chance of you being ambushed. All tactical considerations must be remembered.”
“Here lies Lyssa Corti, aka Hecate. She died because of too much nature appreciation.” She chuckled. “You think someone’s going to jump me because I’m too busy listening to cicadas?”
“Not in particular, only pointing out the possibility.”
“Why do I have a feeling that in five years, you’re going to burst out of my guns, cackling about how you’ve been putting me on all this time?” Lyssa shook her head. “You are probably the Grand Spirit of All Humor.”
“I assure you, I’m not a spirit of humor,” Jofi said. “I don’t understand your jokes, Lyssa.”
“That much is obvious. I’ve been working with you for years, and you don’t learn.”
“It’s not in my nature. I’m a gun spirit.”
“Sure.” Lyssa frowned. “That’s what you are.”
Her breath caught. She didn’t see anything new through her binoculars, but a question begged to be asked. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d asked, but it’d been a long time. Lee would have been outraged to know she wasn’t asking it weekly. The answer could be an early warning of Jofi’s seal weakening.
“Hey,” she asked quietly. “How does it feel to be a gun spirit?”
“I feel satisfied when you use me,” Jofi replied. “I don’t take pleasure in the destruction of your enemies, only in your use of me, but I do wish rapid defeat for all your enemies because of the risk they represent to your life.”
That was a solid enough reply. There was no hint he doubted he was a gun spirit.